


Pravda on Canvas

by Siberianskys, XScribe



Series: Gobsmacked [4]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Original Male Character Based On Paul Walker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-17
Updated: 2005-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberianskys/pseuds/Siberianskys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XScribe/pseuds/XScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a warning from The Lone Gunmen, Mulder<br/>returns to his home in England to find out what's going on between his<br/>husband and Alex Krycek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pravda on Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Original Male Character based on Paul Walker.

SUNDAY--APRIL 2000 

Even nonstop, the flight was long and dull. One Mulder had flown many  
times alone. The novelty of flying first class, a treat spared for  
special occasions, had been lost a long time ago. He had no complaint  
about the room, comfort, and attention from the flight  
attendants--just the boredom. For a short time, he wished he'd talked  
Scully into coming, after all, though he'd deliberately gone out of  
his way to invent a circumstance she'd be sure to avoid at all costs.  
Then he began to wish he'd invited one of the Lone Gunmen, at least.  
They knew what was going on and could easily provide plenty of  
interesting conversation to while away the hours. However, he didn't  
need them to know what was going to go on, this trip.

After a meal more lavish than his usual fare, he fell asleep during  
the onboard movie, "Galaxy Quest," which he'd already seen and didn't  
mind missing. For him and the other passengers still on EDT, it was  
nearing 3:00 in the morning when they straggled from the Heathrow  
terminal. There at the airport, it was daylight, nearly 8:00 am, and  
the place was already busy with travelers.

Shouldering his bags, Mulder carried them to the nearest bank of  
seating to set them down. For easy access, he'd packed his leather  
jacket on top, and drew it out. Damn England was always cold. Then he  
made his way out to the curb for a taxi. Sure enough, it was cool with  
the familiar gray sky, kissed with the damp mist of the beautiful  
country. Though he lived and worked across the expanse of the  
Atlantic, he felt like he was home again.

He'd chosen not to give any advance notice. His FBI training had  
taught him it was always better to know a situation as well as  
possible in order to plan the best strategy for attack.

The cabdriver let him out at the relatively modern apartment building  
that stood at the edge of the Thames. Once Mulder paid the fare, he  
approached the front entrance. From the front pocket of his overnight  
case, he slipped out his card, inserted it in the slot, and the  
mechanism released in compliance.

On the plane ride, with too much time to think, he'd become a little  
apprehensive about what he may find. There was no denying Krycek was  
well trained at self-defense, marksmanship, and special strategic  
tactics. Furthermore, he was a sharp, fast learner.

The elevator doors slid open to the familiar penthouse apartment.  
Hefting the bags up again, Mulder silently stepped out. Past the  
foyer, he surveyed the spacious, hardwood-floored room. He set his  
luggage down again. A minimal number of the recessed lights burned  
there in the drawing room. There were no lights on in the kitchen and  
dining area and it was cool, as though the heating system was turned  
down.

Still, Mulder maintained stealth when he entered the hall for the  
bedroom and bath area. The doors stood open, revealing that no one was  
around. Leaving his bags on the bench at the foot of the bed, he went  
to the hundred-gallon aquarium in the room. Gently, he tapped on the  
glass that housed the array of clowns, cichlids, a black-saddled toby  
puffer, two starfish, and anemone. "Hey," he whispered. "Where's your  
daddy?"

***

With the heat turned up, Mulder slept another two-and-a-half hours  
on the luxurious, king-sized bed to the comfortable, familiar hum of  
an aquarium filter. On waking, he showered, shaved, and dressed.

Through the expansive windows overlooking the Thames, he saw the sun  
had broken through the haze. Still, he knew better than to expect  
balmy temperatures. Having come completely prepared for the climate,  
he slipped a thin sweater over a clean t-shirt to wear with his jeans.  
Damn, he was hungry. He went to scavenge something from the kitchen.

Down in the garage, he recognized the Honda Shadow VT100 and the  
Porsche Boxster. The Skyline was missing. Out of the way of any  
traffic, he crouched before the vehicles, admiring them while he  
rifled through the pocket of his overnight case again. Systematically,  
he tried out his assortment of remote keys until the alarm in the  
Boxster chirped and the parking lights flashed. He had brought the one  
for the VT100 in the event he had no choice but to drive it.

Leaving the top up on the slick two-seater, Mulder slipped behind the  
steering wheel of the white Porsche. It was always a welcome culture  
shock, transitioning between his mundane but practical Taurus and the  
exhilarating collection of thrill rides that awaited him in England.  
Six manual gears instead of four automatic ones. The engine leapt to  
life with considerably more throat than that of his placid Ford. He  
clicked on the stereo, once out of the parking garage and combed  
through their favorite preset stations of alternative rock, rock, and  
classical music.

The skies remained clear all the way to Amesbury with the sunlight  
enhancing the lush countryside of England in the spring. It was a  
beautiful country. It hadn't been easy to leave after graduating from  
Oxford. He remembered making plans to move back, after retirement.

It was nearing 2:00 pm when he reached the front gate of the French  
Chateau-style estate. With the gate card always on board, again,  
Mulder didn't have to announce his arrival.

Coasting through the archway between the main house and what once used  
to be a carriage house and the servants' quarters when the house was  
built, he parked in front of the garages in the meticulously manicured  
rear garden.

With his leather jacket over his arm, he left his bags in the trunk.  
The house keys were already in his jeans' pocket. On his way to the  
nearest door, he saw Finnegan rush out. He'd started out as one of the  
photography models and was therefore young and basically cute with a  
slender build and dark, curly hair. In addition to the modeling, he'd  
somehow been selected to receive a steady, generous salary when he was  
hired on as a personal assistant. Though not required to wear a suit,  
he treaded the border between semi-dress, semi-casual, flattering  
attire. "Mr. Mulder!" he greeted excitedly. "What you doin' 'bout? I  
din' even know ya--"

Quickly raising a finger to his mouth, Mulder cut the assistant off.  
It was a good thing he'd learned how to understand estuary English a  
long time back or he would have had a lot more trouble translating the  
assistant's thick accent. Obviously, he'd not had the benefit of  
public schooling. "I'm here as a surprise."

Lowering his volume, Finnegan nodded. "I see. That's a bit a problem.  
Mr. Somerton's got comp'ny, ya see?"

"Yeah, I know." Eyeing the house, Mulder continued to the side rear  
entrance which led to the rear hall by the kitchen and utility rooms.  
"I was informed in a round about way. Everything's okay, isn't it?"

"You're expecting it wouldn' be?" Finnegan followed after Mulder.

"I didn't say that. I'm asking."

"Far as I know.' Cept I haven't seen much of him to hardly ask. He  
seems right distracted with his comp'ny so he said it was all ri' if I  
cleared out for th' day."

Halting, he turned back to Finnegan. "How did he say it?"

"You know how he is when he's working."

"Working?" Mulder asked.

"Well, I'm not sure he'd call it work, but he's paintin' again, at any  
rate."

Mulder smirked. "Is he in the studio?"

"That 'e is. Seems right pleased with his model, too."

This time Mulder couldn't help but chuckle.

***

The anteroom doors to the studio were shut. With the utmost care,  
Mulder opened one. Because the art studio was at the far end, he had  
an entire room to cross, attempting to avoid detection with every  
step. That kept him toward the left-hand wall on entering, and  
necessarily from catching a glimpse into the studio. He left his  
jacket on a sofa chair.

Beneath the slow, sexy strains of alto sax coming from the CD player,  
he didn't hear anything, at first. Though Finnegan had stated without  
doubt they were in the studio, maybe he was wrong. Then Krycek spoke.

"Mind if I get another refill?"

"Help yourself."

Mulder shut his eyes. Krycek sounded mildly testy, but that was the  
nature of the beast. Perry was his usual, cool, affable self. For the  
most part, Mulder had tried never to imagine what would happen should  
the two ever meet. But, now he'd been forced to.

As much credit as Mulder was ready to give his husband, he still had  
to wonder what he'd done to pull the feat off. And why the two seemed  
to be getting along, according to Finnegan's testimony. While Perry  
wouldn't lose his cool, even if taken hostage, that didn't explain why  
Krycek would model or why he seemed so calm--relatively speaking.

To be absolutely certain of the situation, Mulder turned to the door  
frame into the turret and peeked in. From where he stood, he could  
only see the artist's station. Even from behind, he still knew his  
husband intimately--but nearly choked at the sight of his cropped  
hair.

When he'd started wearing it cut to the nape of his neck, that had  
been bad enough. This, however, was way beyond that. There wasn't a  
semblance of a curl left--just a hint of wave. Worse, Mulder knew  
exactly what that meant, though he was always astonished to learn all  
over again how much he meant to Perry and how dependent he really was  
on Mulder, underneath.

Not that he sounded it. In the next moment, he got off his stool to  
approach his subject, stepping out of sight. "That's all wrong, you  
daft git. Turn your head this way. I'd be more than happy to paint a  
portrait of your profile next, but I've already started the--"

"What next? No one said anything about a next. You think I'd put up  
with this shit all over again?"

"Don't do your nut over it. Just sit--just like that. You're lovely,  
you know that?"

"And you call me a daft git," Alex muttered.

"Fox doesn't tell you how lovely you are?"

"Not if he doesn't want me to drop him on his ass. We're queer," Alex  
snapped. "Not a couple of girls."

It seemed Finnegan's assessment hadn't been quite accurate; the  
Krycek/Elden-Beck encounter wasn't transpiring that harmoniously,  
after all.

"That's rather sad, innit?"

"What?"

"That you don't let him say it."

"He wouldn't anyway. At least not like that."

"Ah, but he would--"

Alex sounded pained. "Don't even start packing your bags for that  
trip. It's none of your goddamn--Look, would you just get back to your  
stool so we can get this over with? And do something about that damn  
music. It's sounds like we're in some kind of a burlesque show."

Whereas Perry was amused. "I was thinkin' on hiring the bloke to play  
for my next show."

"Why?" Alex asked with undisguised horror in his voice.

"The irony of it."

"You want to use this music with *those* photos," Alex said  
incredulously.

Perry returned to his stool, evidently making no attempt to interrupt  
the sorrowful sax. "Give it a chance. You never know. It might grow on  
you."

All right, Mulder was a psychologist; he was supposed to know how to  
handle difficult situations. Yet his training and years of experience  
escaped him. That was part of the enigma of psychology, though. An  
innate catch-22. A psychologist could never completely extract himself  
from his own stressors and therefore, could never give them a  
thorough, objective analysis. It was time to make his presence known.  
He fell back on the defense mechanism he usually did--humor. Stepping  
into the turret, he scoffed aloud. "You might as well give up; Alex  
plays three bands in heavy rotation--The Smiths, REM..."

Both of them started.

They couldn't have been more shocked than Mulder, though. His train of  
thought evaded him; his entire focus narrowed down on Alex's nudity.

Nearly falling off the model's stool, Krycek forewent his pose to  
seize the seat, single-handedly, and face the intruder. "Mulder! What  
the fuck are you doing here?"

"What am I...?" Mulder trailed again. "What are you doing here? And  
what the fuck are you doing?" Espying a robe next to a bottle of  
Stolichnaya and a long shot glass on the table close by, he seized up  
the cover and threw it on Alex's lap. "Are you fucking insane? Put  
something on!"

"Am *I* insane?" Krycek echoed, equally agitated. "He's the one you  
should be asking." He pointed behind Mulder, at Perry. "Or maybe I  
should be the one asking you, if all the crap he's been telling me is  
true."

"If that's what you think, then why are you naked?" Without awaiting  
an answer, Mulder went straight to the nearly full long shot of vodka  
and promptly downed it. The vile, emetic taste nearly made him throw  
it right back up, as it usually did. Gag reflex triggered, his  
instantaneous coughing was assuaged by a reassuring pat and rub on the  
back.

"I'd think," Perry remarked, "after six years, you would have learned  
how to take vodka with your bloke."

"Hey, what are you doing?" Krycek demanded, awkwardly pulling on the  
robe. "I can take care of--Is any of what he told me true?"

In answer, Mulder reached to pour himself another glass of vodka.

"Why don't you get him a glass of water, instead?" Perry suggested,  
taking the empty glass and handing it off to Krycek.

"I don't need any water," Mulder coughed. "I'm fine. Why are you doing  
a nude painting of Alex Krycek? And you." He looked to Krycek. "Why  
are you posing for it?"

Returning to his stool, Perry coolly observed, "You've been runnin'  
about with a steady mistress behind my back the past six years, and  
you've got the bollocks to come in demanding answers from me?"

"If I'd known about any of this in the first place," Alex countered,  
"I guarantee I wouldn't have to be posing in the buff now. He said  
you've had palimony documents drawn up with him. Is that true?"

"Whatever Perry told you, it's true," Mulder confirmed, considering  
taking a drink straight from the bottle.

Before he could, Krycek snatched it from him and poured himself  
another drink. "I don't believe this," he marveled. "How could you  
essentially be 'married' without my knowledge? Without *any*one's  
knowledge?"

"I'm gonna get a drink," Mulder said, rubbing his face. "I'd rather it  
was something a little more palatable than your rotgut."

***

Supplied with a bottle of Scotch whiskey, cola, and a bucket of ice by  
Svetlana, Mulder sat down on the sectional sofa in the entertainment  
area to wait for Krycek to dress.

"What's he need to get dressed for?" Perry wanted to know, forsaking  
his tea for a glass of whiskey on the rocks.

"I think you've ogled him more than enough," Mulder replied, seated at  
the edge of the sofa cushion with his glass.

"What're you on about?" Perry lowered himself to the sofa as well,  
watching after Krycek until the bathroom door shut. "You've done much  
more than that."

As usual, Perry seemed more amused than anything else, although Mulder  
sensed some underlying import in his husband's tone.

With Alex out of earshot, Mulder went on, sotto voce. "You're right.  
I've been unfaithful and I didn't let you know about it. I can't deny  
it was wrong. It started out completely extemporaneous and went on  
that way for some time. I'd never know if I'd ever see him again. I  
didn't see any reason to tell you. By the time he started coming  
around more often and staying longer, I couldn't figure out how to  
explain the situation."

"This is right queer for you. You've never messed about. I dunno quite  
what to make of it."

After a drink, Mulder placed the cold glass to his cheek. "It doesn't  
look like you had any problem getting him undressed so you could check  
him out."

"Oh, I had a lot of problem with that." Perry took a generous swallow  
from his own glass. "I haven't been able to suss him all that well.  
He's obviously got years of practice of hiding his true self. Frohike  
informed me he worked for the Consortium. If you were finally going to  
go out and get a lover, where'd you get the daft idea to sleep with  
the enemy?"

Mulder's gaze drifted from his husband to the bathroom door and back.  
"It's not that simple," he murmured.

Perry pursed his lips and watched his husband fidget. "Bloody hell,  
Fox, you went and fell in love with him," he accused.

"What? Now who's being daft?" Mulder asked.

"You can pretend all you like, but I've known you for too many years  
not to see it. Don't do me or you the disservice of lyin' 'bout it  
now," Perry snapped.

"Oh, no you don't," Mulder said, catching Krycek's movement out of the  
corner of his eye when he slipped quietly from the bathroom, dressed.  
"You don't get to make a mess out of my life again and just slink  
away."

"Fuck off," Krycek stated. "I'm not the one hiding a secret family  
from the rest of the world. Poor Mulder, all alone--Bullshit. You're  
*not* going to pin this one on me." Mulder dove over the back of the  
sofa and drove Krycek into the wall. Grabbing his lover by the lapels  
of his battered leather jacket, Mulder slammed him repeatedly into the  
armoire, heedless of Perry shouting at him to stop.

Perry seized Mulder by the wrist and tried to pull him away. Ripping  
free, Mulder struck Alex's mouth. Having had enough, Perry stepped  
between Mulder and Alex, put his hands on his husband's chest, and  
pushed him away. "Chill off," he ordered.

Mulder took a menacing step forward.

"Now!" Perry roared.

"We're not done," Mulder said, starting for the double doors, glaring  
after Krycek.

When Mulder was out of sight, Perry turned back to Alex, incredulous.  
"You just let him beat you."

"None of your business," Alex said, wiping at the blood from his lower  
lip.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up." Perry steered Krycek back to the  
bathroom.

***

Mulder stood naked at the edge of the lap pool. On entering the pool  
room, that stood separate from the house, he'd made sure to lower all  
the open blinds. In front of the 3600 gallon aquarium that stretched  
twenty feet across where it was built into the wall, he'd stripped.  
Taking a deep breath, he dove into the warm, spring water. Coming up  
for a quick breath of air, he began stroking toward the other end.

Eventually, someone else entered the room. On glancing over, he wasn't  
surprised to see Perry. In soft, draping, shirred-yoke shirts and  
sport pants of silk, rayon, or other fine fabrics, he always made a  
beautiful picture, every time Mulder got the chance to see him again.  
Actually, the clothes off a street person couldn't do Perry's looks  
any harm. His light-colored, loose-fitting shirt over soft jeans  
looked great; however, the allure of his appearance stopped there.

Taking his time, Mulder pushed off the end and swam another lap before  
he finally stopped at the edge, back in the deep end. He saw Perry  
patiently kicking back on one of the lounges amidst the lush indoor  
plants.

Wiping the water from his face, Mulder rubbed his eyes. He wasn't used  
to swimming without goggles, and had had to take out his contacts in  
the bathroom to make use of the pool. He shook his head. "I don't like  
it."

"That I'm painting your bloke? That he's cooperating?"

"The beard and the haircut. Go back inside and shave. And I don't want  
a pair of scissors or clippers near your hair for the next eighteen  
months."

"You don't like it?" Perry stroked his beard.

"You knew damn well I wouldn't and that's why you grew it. I've put up  
with your short hair for too long--I'm sure as hell not gonna put up  
with a beard. If you get another haircut before the next eighteen  
months -- and don't wait till I show up, because I intend to have full  
discretion -- I'll take it as an act of unequivocal indifference."

The ingenuous smile that lit his husband's face was enough to suspend  
Mulder's agitation. For a moment, at least. One of the first traits  
he'd been charmed by in Perry was his ability to find pleasure so  
readily and in the simplest things. All he'd wanted was assurance that  
Mulder still cared.

Sliding forward on the lounge, Perry leaned forward, encircling his  
raised knees with his arms. "I'll have it off, then. After you explain  
why you attacked Alex. You admitted as much he's your mistress. I'm  
right confused."

"You should be." Reminded of the present circumstances, Mulder's  
bristled again. "The whole damn thing is confusing." Upon reaching the  
Roman design tiled steps, he debated whether or not to get out. "What  
happened? Did he leave?"

"I hope not. He wanted to, but I talked him into stopping a bit  
longer."

"That's what you think. Chances are he left."

Before Mulder could make up his mind, Perry approached the poolside.  
"By the way you two interact with each other, I don't see how you  
could possibly be lovers."

"I don't profess to understand it, either," Mulder admitted.

Perry laughed in disbelief. "You're the bloody psychologist around  
here."

"I don't know how it happened. Especially because I knew what kind of  
a backstabbing, underhanded, morally deficient son-of-a-bitch he was."  
At last, Mulder chose to mount the steps.

Readily, Perry picked up the waiting towel to receive Mulder in.  
"There you go, luv." Leaving him huddling on the lounge, Perry  
disappeared through the doorway to the back rooms between a pair of  
columns. He returned with another dry towel, then took a seat beside  
Mulder, once he'd been bundled in the second layer of plush  
terrycloth.

"As barmy as it sounds," Perry ventured, "I think some of that  
mysterious unscrupulousness makes the bloke rather alluring."

Mulder regarded his husband. "You-you do?"

"Well, yeah. In spite of myself, I like him."

"Like him?" Mulder's surprise gave way to shock.

Perry leaned over and kissed his husband on the forehead. "Don't think  
too hard, Fox, you might break something," he said cheekily.

Mulder laughed as he cuddled against Perry's side. Resting his head on  
Perry's shoulder, Mulder drifted off to sleep.

***

Perry stood in front of a vanity mirror over a sink area that  
surrounded him within three walls, and applied a thick layer of  
shaving cream with his finger tips. Bringing the razor to his jaw, he  
stopped just before making the first swipe. "Fox said you wouldn't  
still be here," he said, noting Alex's reflection as it appeared next  
to his own.

Alex strolled into the large, luxurious bathroom and took the razor  
from Perry's long fingers. A Jacuzzi-sized bathtub was nestled into a  
small turret surrounded with window panes that matched the other  
turrets. Expensive tiles dressed the rounded tub as well as the rest  
of the room; they were colorful blues and aquas against white, vividly  
carrying the oceanic theme. That included an expansive shower with two  
separate rainshower-style heads, full body spray fixtures, and  
handheld attachments of gleaming gold hardware, enclosed in clear  
glass.

Struggling to hold his tongue, Alex hooked the toe of his boot around  
the leg of a bench and tugged it from the wall into the middle of the  
floor. He looked pointedly at the seat.

Amused, Perry sat and tilted his head back until it rested against  
Alex. He grinned up at his husband's lover.

Jeezus. Did he have to have such an amazingly charming smile? Alex  
held Perry's head steady with his prosthetic hand and made slow,  
precise strokes until the left side of his face was smooth. Shifting  
stance and grip, Alex started on the right side.

"Do you do this for Fox?" Perry asked.

"Mulder and I aren't about hearts and flowers. You have this romantic  
notion about us that has no basis in reality. You witnessed that  
earlier this afternoon."

"How long have you loved him?" Perry asked.

"Love--I just got done telling you. We fuck. We don't sit and drink  
coffee over the morning paper, walk in the park holding hands..."

"But, you wish you did. He loves you, Alex. You're a perceptive  
fellow; why can't you see it?"

"He told you...? He said he...?"

"He's stubborn as you. He wouldn't so far as admit it, but I could see  
it in his eyes," Perry said sadly.

***

Still wrapped in a robe from the pool house, Mulder dropped his  
traveling clothes in the basket in the laundry room and made his way  
back up to the studio. He expected to see that Perry had coaxed Alex  
back on the stool, but found the room vacant. He'd made a point of not  
looking at the canvas before, but now he was being pulled toward it.  
He needed to know what Perry found in Krycek's soul that warranted an  
oil painting. Perry had stopped painting all together when they  
parted; now not only was he painting, but he was painting Alex  
'Fucking' Krycek. Not that he could really blame his husband, Alex was  
beautiful. Sitting on Perry's stool, he stared into his lover's eyes,  
which stared back from the canvas.

***

At the far edge of the drape that hung as a room divider, Mulder  
watched as his husband fucked his lover with a slow, lazy rhythm. The  
sight of them together was arresting. Not just because he never  
expected to witness them like this, it was also everything else about  
them. Instead of angry, he felt alone. He knew from the way that Perry  
had captured Alex's soul, that the portrait was more than an artistic  
exercise.

"Fox," Perry panted lightly, beckoning Mulder toward the bed. His  
imploring gaze and clean shave drew Mulder forward, overriding his  
desire to run.

Cautiously, Mulder approached the bed and lit on the edge. There, he  
rested his hand on Alex's shoulder and felt the tension there. "Look  
at me," he whispered.

Alex kept his head down so Mulder couldn't see his face.

Mulder moved his hand to his lover's jaw and turned his head toward  
him. The pain in the jade eyes said more than words for the reason  
Alex refused to look at him. "Perry, you need to fuck him harder."

"What? Why?" Perry asked.

"Keeps his mind off how bad it hurts," Mulder said quietly, his gaze  
drifting back to Alex's stump.

Obligingly, Perry slid a hand beneath Krycek to bring his hips up and  
accelerated the pace a few degrees, in new desire.

The act made Mulder catch his breath. He had to look away. How much  
was the desire? The painting gave him reason to wonder. He knew his  
husband had never forsaken him for anyone else. It could have happened  
so easily in their forced estrangement. Perry was goddamn  
beautiful--not just physically but in personality, as well. He'd come  
across a lot of people--male and female--who would gladly have taken  
him, given him a new life so he could have left the conspiracy crap  
Mulder had to deal with, behind. And those were just the ones Mulder  
knew about.

The fact that Perry hadn't just accepted Krycek but welcomed him was  
astonishing. As much time as they spent apart, they were bound to have  
met others--not necessarily with intention. However, Perry's jealousy  
had long deterred Mulder from at the very least pursuing sex partners.  
And that, even though he knew the relationship Perry held with some of  
his models wasn't strictly work-related. The jealousy he turned on  
Mulder wasn't blind, either, but keen and refined. Which was one of  
the many reasons he kept his affair with Krycek covert. Fortunately,  
Alex had built-in expertise at that game.

Alex's repressed moan of pleasure yanked Mulder from his thoughts.  
God, he was enjoying it. Well, of course he was enjoying it. He'd have  
to be quadriplegic not to. How the hell had Perry coaxed Krycek  
into--? No. Unbelievably dumb question.

Pausing, Perry reached to Mulder and touched his cheek, prompting him  
closer. Realizing what Perry wanted gave Mulder a shudder of arousal  
and adrenalin. It was made imminently clear with his husband's  
sensuous kiss.

Try as the Consortium had to keep them apart, there was nothing they'd  
ever been able to do that could obliterate the feel of his husband's  
touch or kiss. Just as he was melting into the sensation, he  
remembered Krycek was present. Not for a second did Mulder think he  
was meant to forget his lover; yet sex like this--well, it had been  
broached before, and hadn't come easy.

In the next moment, Perry was tugging at the belt of the robe to  
loosen it while the kiss impassioned.

Beneath them, Krycek's quiet vociferation interrupted and Perry's  
attention instantly stole back to him.

Just because Mulder knew what was expected of him didn't simplify  
matters. However, watching his husband and lover coupling was  
inexplicably, incredibly stimulating. Drawing Alex up on his knees,  
Perry drove deeper in, driving harder and faster. At the same time, he  
seized Alex's genitals for some skillful handling, stroking in like  
rhythm.

That did it; Krycek was soon panting and gasping in familiar, lusty  
desperation. On his elbow, he raised his head, still avoiding Mulder.

Too aroused to hold back, Mulder turned to them and ran a hand over  
the toned muscle in Krycek's side, to his hip. Never would Mulder have  
guessed that the sight of Perry ramming into Alex would give him such  
a rush and one on multiple levels at that. The thought of the intimacy  
he'd shared with both of them and the realization that their curiosity  
was now being satisfied over what Mulder experienced with his  
respective lovers covered several levels. Watching them, he knew the  
extent of the pleasure they were both enjoying. Alex's grip and the  
stroke of his contours within and those of the tantalizing contours of  
his body, without. Knew precisely what met Perry's touch when he  
cradled that body against his, handled and embraced the shapely pecs  
and flat but comfortable belly. Knew the mind-numbing rapture it was  
to be rocked in those strong, wiry arms, pounded by those tight,  
rock-hard, narrow hips, and penetrated by his husband.

On the oversized bed, there was plenty of room for him to lie next to  
them for an excellent vantage point. And found himself becoming  
appreciative of the circumstances, as a voyeur. In no time, Alex  
forgot all about his effort to avert his gaze. The passion derived of  
his absolute ecstasy coupled with the anxious frown he adopted in his  
drive toward release overtook his pretty features.

Seeing Krycek reach orgasm in a spectacular way -- his thick, handsome  
piece violently contracting in Perry's long fingered grasp, shots of  
white cream dripping onto the towel beneath them--left Mulder  
overheated in the loose robe. Also satisfied, Perry eventually  
released Alex and backed to his heels, where he paused, still panting.

Recovering, Krycek sunk to his belly on the bed, eyes shut, equally  
out of breath. Beyond him, Mulder saw his husband carefully easing off  
a condom. Smart move, but it wasn't a sight Mulder was remotely used  
to watching Perry perform. Still semi-aroused, the tip of his shiny  
glans was exposed, its shape evident through his foreskin. God, that  
only spiked Mulder's arousal.

Setting a long, slender leg off the bed, Perry got up. The blue topaz  
eyes raked Mulder. "I'll be back for you."

All right. There was no denying it. Mulder was a sucker for Perry. He  
watched his husband skirt the drape to the entry hall of the master  
bedroom.

"I don't know if I should be jealous," Mulder half bantered, turning  
onto his side to resume taking enjoyable inventory of Krycek's body,  
"and if I am, who to be jealous of."

"You're not mad? A while ago you were ready to empty your clip into  
me."

"Did you do this just to provoke me? If I hadn't happened to wander in  
here, I wouldn't even have known about it."

Turning his head to Mulder at last, Krycek returned the scrutiny. His  
gaze lingered on Mulder's lap which had been partially exposed by his  
erection. "Obviously it wasn't about provoking you. I did it because  
Somerton's been coming onto me since right after we met. And he's so  
damn attractive, I couldn't say no any more."

A more distinct tug of jealousy coiled briefly around his heart, then  
receded. If either of them were going to be cheat on him, it made the  
most sense that they did it with each other. Unless they abandoned  
him.

Sliding close, Alex allayed that worry by placing his leg possessively  
over Mulder's and closing the gap between them. His voice dropped to  
that sultry octave and he breathlessly murmured, "The things you do to  
me, babe...I was so fucking furious when I found out you'd had someone  
all along behind my back, I wanted to kill him...Only you could have  
found a lover like him, though...Only you..."

***

The End


End file.
